


Rosalie

by elizabethlovestatu



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Abandonment, Anxiety, Broken Heart, Character Death, Child Abuse, Depression, Drug Use, E/C mentioned, F/M, Forced Drug Use, Mentions of past sexual assault, Not really a ship fic, Parents, Poor Erik, Suicide, knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethlovestatu/pseuds/elizabethlovestatu
Summary: I got the idea in my head, you know Erik in the 2004 movie has a mother who loves him but he is taken away not because he is ugly (hardly), but because he is a deterrent for his mother’s future. Instead of a mother’s fear and loathing, he got a mother’s love, granted by a woman who was already broken herself.





	

Rosalie

March 20, 1839

(7:00 pm)

“She remains in the same state.” The doctor whispered softly to the young woman’s parents. “I advise careful monitoring of her. In this state she may pose an inclined risk for suicide.”

“Suicide!” The young woman’s father declared, baffled and aghast at the prospects of his daughter being deemed insane. “Just last week she was happily playing her piano for her friends and our guests. And now you say she is so crestfallen she is at risk for suicide?”

The doctor looked at the middle-aged man with sympathy. He had seen many cases of young women in the state Rosalie was in before. They all appeared to be happy girls on the outside, but internally they were suffering more than words could ever describe. His time spent at various asylums during his early years of medicine had furthered his understanding of how delicate the human condition was, especially amongst women like Rosalie.

Poor girl, a beautiful young thing attacked in her own home, forced to carry that criminal’s child to term and to have the bastard born with such a strange skin condition. Had she never been attacked she would be a happy wife, perhaps even a mother of legitimate, beautiful children. The hapless girl now could hardly leave her room for long before she was nothing but a sniveling wretch.

This melancholy that Rosalie presented was made worse by her parents insistence at keeping her from her bastard child. For what reason the doctor could not conclude that this young woman would actually be happy to be around that horrid bastard of hers. He could imagine the debate of nature, a mother always loved her child, no matter how odd of appearance they were. But could that be concluded in this woman’s chase?

Rosalie had been a cheerful young lady before the attack four summers earlier. At a young age she had been declared a prodigy of the piano forte and later the beautiful 88-keyed piano. She had prospects of becoming a professional musician, something a lady was hardly meant to do, but she often would say she was going to be better than any male competition. She had indeed been that wonderful, sadly for her, Rosalie would never get the chance to prove herself before a jury of the Paris Conservatory before she was attacked.

“Her condition… ” The doctor began carefully. “Melancholia is a very serious condition. It comes and it goes. In your daughter’s case it seems this bout of melancholy has struck her harder than any other bout thus far. With a keen eye and sympathetic grasp I’m quite certain this bout will end as soon as the others had.”

Rosalie’s mother, Madame Muller, looked as though she might swoon. Her knowledge of her daughter’s condition was limited as the doctor understood. Both of his patient’s parents were ignorant to their daughter’s condition, no matter how many times he had tried to explain to them that this was not a condition that could be cured with fresh air. Rosalie needed emotional support and a firm hand to remind her of what she has.

The doctor doubted sorrowfully that the Muller’s would ever come to understand their daughter’s condition. He doubted they even realized what their daughter was suffering from was an actual disease not a bout of laziness on the part of Rosalie. He could do his best in explaining, but these people did not seem to understand the severity of what Rosalie was suffering from, and he knew well that they were worsening the condition.

He wished there was more he could do for Rosalie, but treatment for melancholy was at it’s best, medieval. What he could prescribe was a healthy lifestyle and emotional support from the family. Which of course he doubted the Muller’s could provide for their daughter.

“This is that bastard’s fault!” Madame Muller declared with fury. “We should have had that midwife perform the procedure when we had the chance. She was so very happy before that bastard was born. We should have sent it to the orphanage. I don’t care how much she would have begged, she wouldn’t be in this state if it weren’t for it!”

The doctor did his best to keep his face neutral. His disgust for the Madame Muller was already at the boiling point, her declaration of her hatred for her grandson was about more than he could handle. Had he not had a professional need to help Rosalie he would have left the Muller’s to their ill daughter, let them suffer the loss.

“Call upon me if anything changes.” The doctor stated handing the Muller’s his calling card, he was sure they already had plenty. “I will be here once more on Friday to check on Rosalie’s condition.”

Monsieur Muller was at least kind enough to escort him out without saying a word of what he personally thought of his grandchild. Bastard or not, they had to love the child that came from something as horrid as Rosalie’s attack. Perhaps it was his morals that needed to be checked, but the Muller’s were hardly decent people in his book.

Leaving the Muller’s home was a happy occasion for the doctor. Bowing at last to the Monsieur Muller, the doctor made his way back to his home two blocks down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 20, 1839

(8:00 pm)

“We’ll keep him in the attic.” Rosalie’s mother whispered to her father while looking upon their supposedly sleeping daughter. “I’ll contact Mother Louise in the morning and we’ll be rid of her aliment.”

“What if taking it from her makes her condition worsen?” Her father asked, being the seemingly only reasonably one out of Rosalie’s parents.

“Taking the bastard away will do her more good than harm!” Her mother proclaimed with spite easily heard in her normally soft soprano voice. “She’ll be upset at first, of course. But within a few weeks she’ll be our jovial Rosie again.”

Rosalie, listening to her parents, as she always did when she was in this state of total indifference pretended to continue the sleep the morphine had provided her. Her melancholia had worsened in recent weeks, now she felt as if she were amongst the dead. How little energy she had, how horrid she felt, how utterly dismal she felt, and overall how hopeless she felt.

She had long experienced melancholia, ever since she was a child. Her parents had only taken notice after… After her attack. That damned, evil man that had dared to touch her in the most cruel ways imaginable, she had not felt clean in years. Her melancholy had only been made more noticeable by her months spent in isolation.

And the only thing good thing that had come from her attack, her son had been the only thing keeping her in this dull world the living souls occupied. Not even her music could cure her of the gloomy reality that weighed so heavily upon her, but her son, the son of that bastard who had attacked her, had shone a bright light in the darkness that was her life.

He kept her going. Every smile, every laugh, every triumph he made, made her feel as though it was all worth continuing. Without him, she doubted she would have not have drowned herself in the bathtub already. She could smile thinking of her toddler. He had recently begun playing the piano with her, his small, thin fingers doing their best to keep up with the simple melodies she played for him to follow. He had already shown he was going to be a beautiful musician in the future.

Rosalie hoped to see him perform one day before the people of Paris. He’d bring her onstage afterwards and introduce her as his teacher and they’d play something together. She’d be happy seeing her dreams live on in Erik. He would be a fine pianist, perhaps even a composer, one day. And she would be the reason for his music.

She rolled over in bed and sighed. She smiled slightly at imagining her son playing her her favorite pieces before a crowd of hundreds. She imagined how handsome he would look in a suit, perhaps with a mustache like her father’s. She could almost laugh at the thought.

“She can hear you.” Rosalie muttered curling herself further in the warm blankets, taking extra care to be gentle with her son’s favorite toy he had given her as a get well soon gift.

The monkey was made of a soft felt-like cloth and held cotton within, she had planned to sew on cymbals to the toy when she was released from this bout of melancholy. Erik would love to make little melodies with his friend. She about felt like doing it now… But her motivation towards doing it now was gone with the prospects of telling her parents how far down into hell they should go.

“Oh Rosie!” Her mother sighed cheerfully. “I’m so glad your awake darling. Doctor Richard said you should have slept through the night.”

Rosalie threw off the blankets of her bed, revealing her pale, skinny physique beneath the white cotton nightgown. She held the monkey in her hands as she shifted herself into a sitting position with the pillows up behind her. Her mother doing her best to help her as she did. She was not going to accept her help however, her mother was a cruel and selfish woman.

She did not understand what Rosalie was experiencing and never would. Rosalie could only hope to be productive enough when this bout was over, that she could get herself and Erik a small apartment of their own. She could not have him living in constant threat of being sent to an orphanage. Her horrible parents were willing to take away her only happiness to better their position, but she was not going to have any of it. They had thought the same way since Erik was safe in her womb, now they wished to take him away from her when all she could manage was to breathe.

“Where is Erik?” Rosalie asked, clearing her throat to make up for lack of use.

“He’s sick darling,” Her mother lied with a smile painted on her loathsome face. “We don’t want him getting you sicker now do we?”

Her father nodded at her mother’s blatant lie. She had seen her son last night when he had come to give her his monkey. He had slept with her until dawn when he declared that “Marie will get in trouble if I’m not in bed.” She had told him she didn’t want him to get her into trouble and kissed his cheek before telling him to come back soon. He was not sick at all, he was a perfectly healthy child.

“Bring him to me.” Rosalie retorted sharply, she was not going to have her own son kept away from her. She’d get up out of bed if she had to, even when she felt as horrible as she did she would.

“He’s sick.” Her father asserted with a swift look at her mother for clarity on whose side he was on. “When he’s feeling better we’ll have him with you.”

Sure they would. Rosalie sighed and pushed back her blonde curls trying to muster any energy to argue. She rubbed her eyes clear. Her depleted emotional state left her with little energy, she felt as though all she could do was speak at the moment. But she couldn’t just sit, she had to do something, no matter how shoddy she felt, she needed to get to her son.

“Get Erik for me.” Rosalie about snapped.

She pushed the covers from her body prompting both her parents to lay her back down on the bed. Her mother holding her down while her father tucked her back into bed. Her mother forcing her shoulders down as she did her best to fight back to get up.

“Get Erik.” Rosalie maintained.

Her father left her line of sight long enough for her hope that he would retrieve her son grew. Instead she was met with the familiar sting of the morphine needle inserted into her arm. They were going to put her to sleep. And she was not going to go to sleep, no matter how the morphine affected her she was going to keep awake. Her parents were not going to be rid of her input so easily. She was going to keep her son with her. No matter what. He was hers and would remain with her until the day she died. She’d fight to the death for him, even against her own parents.

“Just rest now Rosalie,” Her mother whispered, taking her hands off her daughter’s shoulders long enough for Rosalie to pretend become doozy enough to sleep.

“We’ll be here when you awake in the morning.” Her father muttered kissing her forehead.

Her parents left the room. Closing the door behind them, Rosalie noted as she turned her head towards the door. The morphine already beginning to kick in as she felt tiredness overwhelm her. She was not going to go to sleep. She was not. She was stronger than the drug. She held her breath as she heard the familiar sound of the lock on her door being engaged. They always locked her in, they thought she couldn’t get out. The fools.

She didn’t take any time to wait for their footsteps to disappear, she was getting out of this room now. Rising from the bed on uneven feet she made her way to the door, placing her ear to the cold wood she heard little from the hall. She took a deep breath to clear her head from the cloud, as best she could, and broke the door knob.

With the brass door knob no longer in place she reached into the locking mechanism of the door and freed herself from her room. Her fingers coming out cold and smelling of metal, but she carried on, looking both ways before rushing down the hall towards her son’s room. It felt as though she had walked a mile by the time she reached his bedroom just a room over from her own.

She turned the knob. It was locked. Taking the door knob firmly in hand she pulled back as hard as she could, pulling the knob off the door allowing her access into the locking mechanisms of the door. The same door knob that was in her room was also the same as every door in the house, easy enough to get into with little practice. The door came unlocked soon enough for her.

Pushing against the now unlocked door she found the room plunged in darkness. The spring sun hardly lighting the room as it should, she barely made out the room was without occupants. Nearly slamming the door behind her she ran up the stairs to the attic. The cold, nearly empty attic was used for storing old furniture and clothing, but the way her parents spoke of it, it was the perfect bedroom for Erik.

With disgust she pushed on, holding tight to the hand rail as she made her way up to the two flights of stairs. Her head was feeling as light as it usually felt on morphine, perhaps more so now that she had had two doses so close to each other. She refused to let a cloudy head deter her from getting to her son. Already she heard her mother’s blusterous voice booming from the attic no doubt she would hear her father’s soon as well.

Turning the door knob to the attic revealed another locked door for Rosalie, with this door having a different knob than she remembered having on it. She did her best with what she could, but her efforts seemed to be in vain, yet she kept trying, keeping an ear out for the conversation in the next room.

“You’re going to be going on a trip tomorrow Erik.” Her mother continued with whatever she had been saying earlier to her son.

“Is mama better?” Erik asked meekly. “Is she going to come with me?”

“No,” Her mother confessed in a way that Rosalie knew meant she was lying. “Your mother isn’t going to get better.”

Rosalie heard a whine come from her son. Sobs soon followed as her poor boy was told lies. She felt like kicking in the door, if only she had the energy for it. She barely could keep doing what she was doing now, trying to pull the door knob off once more. She just wanted the damned thing to come off.

“And she isn’t going to get better with you here.” Her mother asserted cruel. “She’s just getting worse with you still here. Ever since you were born, she’s just gotten so much worse. Without you Erik, Rosalie would be a happy pianist making history, instead she is here dealing with a sin that has caused her nothing but remorse.”

Rosalie had had enough of listening to the horrible trash that was spilling out of her mother like wine. With what energy she had remaining she took a firm foot and slammed it against the door. The knob on the door came off with the kick allowing her access into the locking mechanism of the door. She worked quickly getting into the room, not bothering to listen to her mother or father berate her son for crimes he was innocent of.

She knew Erik was crying. She could hear him, she felt the pain come through her heart. She just wanted to get in and comfort him. She’d have him stay with her at all times until she could get them out of her parent’s home. She was already living the life of a woman outside of society, what could she do to make it worse than move out into her own home?

Giving up with the lock she took a quick look at the door before trying to slam herself through the door. The door, thankfully, gave way letting her in at last. The sight before her was sickening. Her father just standing to the side looking out one of two of the attic windows, while her mother stood over Erik with Erik sitting on a pile of old clothes.

“Mama!” Erik cried upon seeing his mother holding herself up by a chair, he ran quickly to her, his face flooded with tears, his deformed eye just spilling it’s tears out plainly onto the red skin of his right side of his face.

Rosalie opened her arms as she knelt down onto the floor. She took him into her arms as he came crying. She sat on the cold wood of the attic, keeping Erik in her arms whilst supporting him enough so his feet did not hit the cold floor. He babbled apologizes against her neck. She just shushed him, whispering her love and comfort to him.

“What are you doing out of bed Rosalie?” Her father managed to not gap as much as her mother at the sight of a drugged and still depressed Rosalie sitting on the floor with her ugly child.

Rosalie paid her parents no mind. In that moment she needed to comfort Erik. With her spirits already in the dirt she found herself relying on some sort of supernatural strength to comfort the crying child. Her sympathy had long run out for her parents and now comforting her own child was nearing impossible for her. She felt so insincere with her words, and yet he continued to hold tight to her as if he was comforted by them.

“I’m sorry.” Was all her poor boy kept sobbing.

“I love you more than anything in the world Erik.” Rosalie whispered into his ear kissing it as she did. “I would never, ever think of you as a burden. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You make me happier than all the music in the world.”

Erik’s cries seemed to calm down as she continued to soothe him with words of love and reassurance. She had to get him out of this house. She had no idea where she would go, but she would get them both out and they would be happy away from her parent’s trying hands. She had her grandmother’s money to live off of, her grandmother had left it all to her in the will, citing her mother’s incompetence with handling money as the reason for leaving the millions to her.

She’d buy a nice flat, with a view of Paris and a room devoted to just the piano and books. It’d be perfect.

Rosalie felt more fatigued by the minute. Her thoughts were all over the place as she did her best to fight off the side effects of the morphine. She blinked her eyes fast in effort to keep awake. She needed to get Erik and herself back to her room. With the door lock broken she would just have to keep him held close to her in the night. She’d instruct him to scream if her parents tried anything.

Standing up slowly, with Erik’s hand held tightly within her own, and the other on an old chair for support. She looked to both her parents.

“Rosie!” Her mother suddenly proclaimed looking at her daughter as if she had truly lost her mind. “You’re not thinking straight. You need to think of yourself for once.”

“No mother.” Rosalie managed, her voice remaining sharp in her mother’s presence. “You are the one thinking for themselves. You haven’t been invited to any of those big parties since Erik was born, and all you can imagine is the open arms that shall surely, doubtably, welcome you back.”

“You are not listening Rosie!” Her mother retorted. “You are going to die a used woman with nothing but a bastard to her name.”

Rosalie had had more than enough and lead Erik down the stairs and back to her room. Her mother had gone mad. Her mother had always held an aversion to Erik, his presence, whether his skin was deformed or not, she had lost her standing in society as soon as it had been announced her only daughter had given birth to her attacker’s child and kept it. And now all she wanted was a way back in, and Rosalie was not going to give it to her without a violent fight.

Melancholia or not, she was going to give her mother what for, actively or passively she was not going to be run over. Her mother was willing to sacrifice her own daughter and grandson for the chance to go out into those horrifying society functions once more.

Pulling back the sheets on her bed and allowed Erik to crawl in, his small body trembling in fear, as he did so. Upon finding his monkey still in his mother’s bed he held the toy close to him, the toy proving to be almost as much comfort as she had been. Rosalie got into bed beside her son, fluffing a few pillows for Erik to lie back on before allowing herself to lie down as well.

“Why do I have to go?” Erik muttered, his tears long since dried but the lump in his throat remained.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Rosalie whispered, kissed his head as she pulled the warm sheets around them.

“Grandmama says I’m going to go live somewhere else.” He whispered, clucking tight to his monkey. “That you don’t want me anymore.”

Rosalie sighed and wrapped her arms tightly around her son. She would never not want him. He was her light. He was the only reason she stayed in this horrible world. Without him, she was sure she would have long since slashed her wrists. He needed her. He needed her to be his mother, his caregiver, his teacher, and his friend. She would never leave him, she could never bear the idea of leaving him. Her own mortality she had long since accepted, but she would not give up with Erik still needing her.

She about said nothing to her son’s concerns, hoping to allow the drug to take affect and send her into a dreamless sleep. Instead she now felt dread at her son not believing her love for him because of something her mother had said, and her father defended. Her mother was a selfish woman who deserved none of what she had and her father was just some old cuckold man who needed to learn to grow a spine.

“I love you more than anything in the world Erik.” Rosalie whispered. “There is nothing in this world that could ever stop me from loving you. I’d go to hell and back for you. Never doubt that when I say I love you, I truly mean it. You are the only person in this world I would give anything for.”

Erik turned himself to face her, his blonde hair getting into his eyes as he did so, his seemingly burnt side of his face looking more solemn than she had ever seen. He said nothing at first instead just curled up further into her breast, he wiped his nose on her nightgown as he always seemed to do. He laid his head right back against where he had wiped his nose, all while he held tight to his monkey as he did so.

“Then why are you so sad?” He managed keeping his head firmly place against her chest.

“I’ve always been sad Erik.” Rosalie began, carefully censoring herself. “Long before you were born I was a sad little girl and I grew up to be a sad woman. But you know what the difference between now and when I was a child? I didn’t have you. When I first held you in my arms moments after you were born, I had never felt such joy in my life until that moment. I felt as though nothing could make me more happy. And I was right. You are my joy.”

“She said you got worse after you had me.”

“Your grandmother is a stupid, selfish woman with nothing better to do with her time than to long for something that has been gone and will never come back.” Rosalie about snarled at her son believing her horrid mother’s lies. “I am better now than I ever was before you.”

“Don’t ever leave me?” He asked with a pathetic smile forming on his face as he looked up at her.

“I would never dream of it.” Rosalie smiled as she kissed him once more on the cheek. “Now get some rest. I love you.”

“I love you too mama.” Erik whispered making Rosalie smile.

Rosalie allowed herself to finally succumb to the morphine’s tiring effects. With it she entered the world of dreamless sleep that always welcomed her like an old friend each time she took the elusive drug. She was content with knowing Erik was in her arms and safe from whatever evil her mother could dish out upon him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 21, 1839

(9:00 am)

“No!” Someone screamed, awakening a somehow still drugged Rosalie. “No! I don’t wanna go!”

Her vision was obstructed by white spots. The dizziness that always came with morphine seemingly hitting her harder now even as she lay in bed. The ceiling seemed to be spinning as her vision cleared; sitting up in bed revealed herself alone, Erik was gone. Her heart sank, was that Erik screaming? Oh Christ.

Rosalie practically leapt out of bed not even caring about the cold air now hitting penetrating her nightgown. She did her best to stumble along to the door. The knob was gone as it had been the previous night, except this time there was something preventing her from getting out. She began pounding on the door in desperation, running and banging her shoulder into the door as best she could to get the door open.

She couldn’t give up.

“Mama!” Erik screamed, the cry seemingly coming from outside.

No. They couldn’t do that to her. They couldn’t. Eyes now watering and her head pounding Rosalie made her way to her large window seat. Her bedroom was located on the second floor of her parents home, a jump down to get out of her room was just crying for a broken leg. She kept her bearings as she opened the largest of the windows. The cold air hitting her face cruel.

Leaning herself out the window she looked down onto the front garden and street. A boxy carriage with a dark horse waited in front of the garden gates. Looking now at the front garden she caught sight of the horror that was her mother speaking with a strange woman in black, her father holding Erik tightly by the shoulders.

Her head ached, her throat swelled, and her heart seemed to stop at the sight. How could they do this to her? How could they do this to Erik? How could they be so cruel? Tears falling freely now Rosalie turned to the door once more and ran as best she could in her drugged state into the door shoulder first.

She had to get to him, she had to. The pain that would have come with the impact of her shoulder meeting the solid wooden door was dulled with the effects of the drug. The door had not budged. She cried out in anguish. She had to get down.

“Erik!” Rosalie cried as she stumbled back to the window seal. “Erik! I’m here!”

Her mother, her father, and the strange woman seemed to not hear her. Her voice only seemed to reach Erik as he looked up at her crying out the window. He called back to her and fought back against her father’s tight grip. Her father just seemed mildly annoyed by his struggles, her mother didn’t even notice his attempts to be free. She just kept talking to that woman in black.

She turned her head back to the door, perhaps with one more hard hit the door would open? Doing her best she rammed herself into the door once more. The door budging this time, leaving Rosalie on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Her head spinning more now from injury than the morphine. She didn’t know what had happened to her, but she knew very well she would be feeling it when the drug wore off.

Racing down the stairs as best she could, Rosalie made her way to the front door. Her world spinning as she gripped anything that could hold her up. Her senses null and void as she managed to grasp the cold brass doorknob. She stumbled with the handle, turning it with shaky hands, tears streaming down her face as she tried.

“Erik!” She cried out once more, just to let him know she was coming.

She finally managed to get a steady hand and turned the doorknob. Her whole body shaking as she rushed out the door of her home. The front garden was now with just her mother and father, the woman in black and Erik gone from her sight. A scream she recognized to be her own pierced the cold spring morning. A scream of grief came as she realized the boxy carriage was pulling away from the street.

Running, stumbling, to the front gate was obstructed by both of her parents holding her back. She fought and she fought against them. The held their drugged daughter as if she were nothing but a sheet of silk. No matter how hard she fought she was not let go and she truly doubted she was making any effect on getting to the departing carriage.

“Erik!” Rosalie cried, tears falling down her face as she cried her heart out. “Erik!”

“Rosie,” Her mother whispered into her ear. “It’s all right. He’s gone. You’re free.”

Rosalie collapsed as her mother told her of her plan all along to get Erik out of the house to better her position. She could be a pianist again, she could perform at parties again and not have the stigma of having a bastard child waiting at home. She was free from the evil that her attacker had left her with, the hideous skin of her son would no longer remind her of the horrors of that summer day.

She cried and screamed, until her voice was gone. Her soul already having left her did not care that her body was still trying to let out those pitiful sounds of grief. It left her with nothing, He left her with nothing, just a shell of herself. And it was all their fault! It was all their fault and she was not going to let them think she was going to be their little dress up doll again.

Her father carried her back to her bedroom, tucked her into bed, and kissed her forehead as if saying goodnight. Her mother smiled from the broken door of her bedroom, waving her father to come with her to start the celebration plans for their now childless daughter.

Rosalie’s cries were ignored by her parents as they left her alone in her bed, her eyes welling up with tears that she did not think she had left. Her whole body shaking as she cried, no longer could she scream, no longer could she cry out for her son, no, she was left with nothing but her tears. There was nothing she could do.

Her mother probably had him shipped off to some insane asylum dedicated to deformed children, and no matter how hard Rosalie would look she’d never find her son, she was doomed to be a pitiful doll for her parents to play with when it suited their social calendar. Her son had been everything to her, and now, now he probably hated her as much as she hated herself for being foolish enough to stay with her parents this long.

He would still be with her had she not been so stupid. They’d be a happy pair living in a fashionable part of town spending their days working on music, filling the air of their building with the sweet melodies of whatever composer Erik had chosen for that day. But it was all gone now. She had ruined it.

It was all her fault. She had allowed him to escape her arms. She should have left before he was born. She should have done so many things… But now there was nothing she could do. She was going to live out the rest of her days as a mother who had lost her only child, a grieving artist who only survived with the hope of her child one day finding her.

He never would though.

Rosalie pushed back the covers on her bed, rising out of bed she took a glance down at the last place her son had been with her, safe in her arms. His monkey, his favorite companion was laying on a pillow next to her own, taking the little felt toy in her arms she took her time dressing herself in her favorite ballgown.

A blue satin gown with white roses sewn into the bodice, she had worn it once before, to her second to last piano recital before a crowd of her family’s friends. She had been 17 and so happy to have such a fine dress. She had been so happy, all she could think of when seeing this dress was the male pianist’s jealous gaze at the attention she was getting. She had promised herself she would wear it everyday for the rest of her life.

And now, she would die in it. Dressing herself for the first time in days with shaking fingers, Rosalie looked peacefully at herself in the mirror as she stepped into the dress. Lacing herself in was little work to her, looking once more at herself, she smiled, she looked beautiful; just as she had on the day of the recital. Her messy blonde curls a mess, her face plastered with tears, and her hands shaking, she still looked beautiful.

Taking her son’s monkey with her, Rosalie made her way to the kitchen, her parents would surely be celebrating in their own rooms over wine and candies. She was left to her own devices, selecting a sharp steak knife to do the job, she walked calmly back to her own bedroom. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her, she was certain there was no need to worry about her parent’s interrupting.

Opening the door to her adjoining washing room, Rosalie put the knife down on the bench that helped get her step into the tub, the monkey sitting next to the knife, looking passively at her as she took her time doing her hair in the simplest of ways to make curls more presentable. Her hair done, she glanced down at the sink to find her old ribbon choker with the little angel pendant attached.

Her appearance checked and readied, she smiled to herself once more in the mirror. This time taking her time as she glanced at the sun coming through the small window that sat above the bathtub. She should have held a better sight of the sun before this morning. Not bothering to dwell on the subject Rosalie took a seat in the old porcelain tub.

She should have had Marie draw her a bath before. It would have ruined her dress though. Granted what she wished to do was going to do the same.

Taking the monkey in hand once more she laid it on her chest, one hand keeping it there, the other reaching for the knife. With the knife in hand, Rosalie kissed the monkey before placing it back against her chest.

The knife was swift with cutting through the delicate skin of her wrists, her blood soon flowing from the wound. Her son’s monkey was covered in blood, but she didn’t think Erik would mind, he’d want something of his mother to remember when he came back home to her. He’d come back and they’d be a family together.

That was all she wanted. A happy life for her and Erik, and now with her blood flowing freely she was going to get that paradise she had always craved. An existence solely for her and Erik, a place for them to be happy and away from the evils of the world. She smiled at the thought. Her body already weak, her eyes shutting as she fell into an eternal sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 22, 1872

(Noon)

“Why do you want this home Erik?” The beautiful young woman asked her quiet husband. “It’s rather old and in need of repair.”

The old townhouse was in need of many a repair, starting with new floors, windows, and a fresh coat of paint. That could all be remedied with a little time and effort. Christine would have her room for her music, he for his, and most importantly a room for them to share their art together. With a bit of tough love he was certain he could turn this old, drafty home into the modern style his Christine so desired.

Now to answer the question of why he wanted this home in reticular, it had been a long, painful journey for himself; remembering all the things of the past. Just to find what had happened to that one woman who had shown him such kindness in his early years.

Erik simply smiled at his former student now wife. “This was my mother’s home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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